


Desire

by kawoshin



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Anal Fingering, Breathplay, Daddy Kink, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Size Difference, Spanking, Stripping, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 12:17:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4521639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kawoshin/pseuds/kawoshin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Have you ever gotten a dance before? I bet you haven’t,” Itching for a lower touch, yet enticed at the buzzing atmosphere, Chrollo reluctantly brought the rough palm upward, settling it on his fragile neck. “I’ve danced for men before. I like it more, actually.”</p>
<p>Chrollo’s thrumming pulse sat beneath Silva’s touch, the younger man’s fingers curling into his own. The edges of Chrollo’s hair were pieced with sweat, tickling as he tilted his neck, completely submitting to Silva’s touch, awaiting his answer.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>or AU where Chrollo is a stripper and seduces Silva.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desire

**Author's Note:**

> I'M SORRY FOR THIS SIN. It's kind of a long sin for what it is, but I hope you enjoy it.  
> You can talk to me on my tumblr about silvakuro. It's silvakuros.tumblr.com surprisingly enough.  
> Please let me live in peace................ also Hisoka's stripper name is The Magic Man, even if he doesn't say it, it is.

Kalluto dropped their fan, alarmed at the mistake, pausing their labored breath to internally chastise themselves. Picking up the fragile, folded paper, Kalluto awaited further instruction. Hearing the music fade as it was turned down, they turned to face their mother, whose hand was cocked against the speakers.

“Kalluto, what did I tell you about remembering to keep your fan up?” Kikyo harshly scolded, her own, fur trimmed fan folded against her hip.

“I’m sorry, Mother,” Kalluto rounded to face themselves in the mirror, which spanned the entirety of the north wall of the room. Their tightly drawn kimono shimmered with silk patterning, ostentatious against their petite body.

“Let’s start over,” Illumi stretched his arms behind his back, signaling his mother to begin the music again. However, before the pair could resume their elegant dance, the door to the practice room was opened, a servant appearing.

“I pardon the intrusion,” Nervously, the butler stepped aside, allowing a view of the person just outside the door. “A visitor has arrived for Master Kalluto.”

Kalluto lowered their fan, listening as their mother ordered to let them in. The young child was taken aback when Chrollo entered the studio, wearing the standard slippers offered to guests of the Zoldyck household. There was a string of silence before Chrollo smiled, ethereal per usual.

“Good morning, Kalluto. Did you forget we were meeting today?” Chrollo shifted his smile to Illumi in greeting, the recipient merely gazing in return.

“We weren’t supposed to meet for another hour,” Kalluto rebutted questioningly, quickly glancing downward to make sure their garb was properly placed.

Kalluto had bonded to Chrollo and his friend group instantaneously, and quite on accident as well. Illumi had merely asked Chrollo to babysit his younger sibling for the afternoon one day, and when Kalluto had returned home, they were an honorary member of the conglomeration.

Illumi found it odd, considering Kalluto’s age, but the young man knew Chrollo’s tastes, and they certainly were not Kalluto. In fact, they were very specific, and most likely all the reason the intense man had wormed his way into their home.

“I got tired of waiting, I hope you don’t mind. I’ve always been curious about the Zoldyck’s household, I figured I could see it for the first time,” Chrollo continued to smile, while Illumi, already caught onto his debauched plan, moved to turn the music off with disinterest.

“I don’t mind,” Kalluto said, reopening their fan with a snap of their wrist. “I have dance lessons to finish, however.”

“That’s okay, I used to be a dancer, as well,” Chrollo edged closer to the chairs near the outskirts of the room, approaching Kikyo. “You must be Kalluto’s mother. I’m sorry to intrude.”

The man offered his hand, and Kikyo took it lightly, allowing her dainty knuckles to be brushed by well-moisturized lips. He gazed up, catching the crackle of her eccentric face accessory, fan brushing her cheeks.

“It’s not a bother at all, I’ve been wanting to meet Kalluto’s new friends,” The older woman giggled, holding her newly released hand to her chest. “I see they chose well.”

“You couldn’t expect less from a Zoldyck, of course.” Chrollo praised, causing Kikyo to laugh again, obscuring her half-revealed face with the fan.

Incredulous to the flirtation, Illumi kept his hands against the radio’s volume, “Should we continue?”

“Nonsense, we have a guest!” Kikyo motioned with her fan, stirring the air briskly. “Bring us a table set and tea at once.” Calling to the servant, Kikyo allowed her voice to require a more commanding tone, satisfied when she was obeyed with a nod.

“Actually, I’d love to see you dance, Kalluto,” Chrollo spoke toward the youngster, catching their eye with a smile.

“Of course! Kalluto, entertain us until the tea comes, will you?” The whimsical woman sat herself down, motioning for Chrollo to do the same, repositioning her full skirt when he seated himself next to her.

“Of course, Mother,” Kalluto positioned their fan again, watching in the mirror as it covered their unsure face. “…I’m not done learning all of the steps yet, so it’s not perfect.”

Chrollo merely offered a nod of encouragement to the fussy child, catching their eyes in the mirror. Kalluto took a hesitant breath, bringing their free arm out in an elegant position.

“3, 2, 1…” Illumi began the music, a stately, old tune, fitting for the outfit the little dancer was donning.

Kalluto began to move their feet, surprisingly intricate as they swung their arms with rigid grace. Their face remained covered by the fan at all times, mysterious and dignified. Kalluto traversed the floor in small steps, keeping an inflexible position, creating a dance very different from any Chrollo was used to seeing.

“Isn’t Kalluto just amazing?” Kikyo praised, fanning her face. “They’ve been training in dance since they were very little.”

“I can tell, it’s very mesmerizing to watch,” Chrollo conceded as Kalluto finished, bent to wistfully trail their fingers against the floor.

“Try to keep your neck higher when you’re turning,” Illumi commented, ending the music once again. Chrollo had thought the routine flawless, but considering the Zoldyck dedication, he assumed Illumi must know better.

“Oh, but Illumi’s been practicing much longer. He’s won awards at countless of competitions,” Illumi merely adjusted his ponytail at his mother’s praise, heading over to reposition Kalluto’s body, much like a ball-jointed doll.

“You have amazing children, Kikyo,” Chrollo offered, recalling the affluent woman’s first name, once told by Kalluto, catching her off-guard. The woman began to shrilly giggle again, pausing only as the tea was brought into the room.

Zoldyck tea consisted of a well-covered table, silver instruments, fresh loose tea newly imported, and finger foods set in paper cups to keep the hands clean. Chrollo sat back as a cup was poured for him, porcelain and gold lame catching his eye.

He had dug his finger into many rich families before, but never one this high-end. It set his adrenaline soaring, thinking what he could gain, what he had recklessly at his fingertips.

Meeting them was always the difficult part, hooking them was all too simple.

“Kikyo, is your husband home?” Chrollo chose carefully from the spread before him, a strawberry tart his complacent victim. “He should join us. I’ve always wished to meet a man as powerful as him.”

Illumi halted while showing Kalluto the remainder of the routine, turning his head to catch Chrollo’s eyes. Chrollo deadpanned as he took a bite from the messy tart, strawberry juice staining his plump lips. No words were spoken, yet Chrollo unveiled his intentions with a slight flick of his tongue across his lips.

“Oh, Silva? Of course he’s home,” Kikyo interrupted the terse moment, unaware, snapping toward the servant now stationed at the door. “Go get Silva, tell him we have a guest.”

Complying, the servant exited as Illumi returned to instructing Kalluto. Kikyo and Chrollo chatted idly about Kalluto’s progress at dancing, sipping as they watched new transitions and movements emerge.

“Now, you said you were a dancer, Chrollo? What studio were you at? I’m familiar with all the ones around here,” Kikyo inquired, blowing on her second cup of boiling tea. The young man held back a chortle of laughter, muffling it with his own sip.

“Oh, I wasn’t that type of dancer,” Chrollo set his cup down, glancing to verify the younger person in the room was out of range. “I… danced for men and women during the night hours.”

“O-Oh, my…” Kikyo shielded her face with her gemmed fan, fanning feverishly, unknowingly caught off-guard by the younger man’s words.

Upon this revelation, Silva entered the room, gazing curiously about. Spotting his flustered wife, he approached the pair, well-dressed in only a button down top and slacks.

“Kikyo, who is our guest?” He bent down to kiss her cheek, surprised at how flushed and warm it was. Silva turned to the other man, keeping a hand on his wife’s shoulder. He supposed this young man, now beaming up at him with a closed-lip smile, had been flattering his wife to rile her this way. While he was inclined to let his wife have her fun, he knew to keep her grounded, a sliver of his protective nature beginning to emerge.

He was young, younger than them both, and he was handsome. Beautiful, almost. His deep-set, wide eyes seemed to glint with interest as he looked up at the older man, extending a hand.

“I’m Chrollo Lucilfer, Illumi and Kalluto’s friend,” Silva took his hand, shaking firmly while the other kept a slack, flirtatious grip, attempting to hold on longer than necessary. Just from this single touch, Silva could tell this was not a man he would get along with. This was someone immoral with no preference, a demon.

Yet, he made his child happy, so he kept a stern hold on his face as he pulled his hand back, “I’m Silva Zoldyck.”

“Now, Chrollo was just telling me he used to be a dancer,” Kikyo’s face emerged again, a charming pink still peeping out from underneath her visor. “Actually, Kalluto has been practicing dancing so they can perform at a party I’m hosting soon.”

“Really? That sounds delightful,” Chrollo moved his transfixing gaze between the pair, eyes lingering on Silva’s when they passed by.

“It’s just a get together for a couple of my girlfriends, but, well…” Kikyo attempted to stay regal as she prepared her next sentence, fighting to keep her fan down, remembering her manners. “Would you be free to dance for us later in the night?”

Chrollo, who was rarely surprised, was taken aback by this offer, blinking to process the information in earnest. Really, it was the presence of the husband that made it befuddling, Chrollo moving his gaze to study the man’s face for any indication of feeling at this suggestion. Silva’s face was completely placid, allowing Chrollo to believe this was something that might not be uncommon to the couple. This made a new, peculiar smile crawl onto Chrollo’s face, turning his attention back to the older woman.

“I’m sure I can make time to come,” Kikyo clasped her hands in glee at his response. “Would you like a preview before you pay, then?”

Chrollo was not aware he was going to have such a perfect opportunity, attempting to contain his excitement as he felt Silva’s gaze on him. Kikyo finally let her fan flare up to cover her face, giggling in acceptance, giddy, in her own refined way, at the suggestion.

“Kalluto, go get changed, lessons are done for today,” She called to her child, who stopped and nodded in acceptance. “Also, grab mother’s wallet from my room on your way back.”

“Yes, Mother,” Kalluto closed their fan, letting it disappear in their large sleeves. “I’ll be back soon.” Kalluto offered when passing by Chrollo, receiving only an unnervingly satisfied smile in return, utterly confusing the child.

Once Kalluto had exited the room, Chrollo stood, grinning down at Kikyo. He moved to the center of the wooden room, checking the time idly from his watch as three Zoldycks watched him with predatory gazes, each for their own reason.  
“Illumi, you know what I used to dance to. Could you find something on your phone?” Chrollo asked, removing his jacket.

“I’ll have to go online to find anything like that, but I’m sure I can look for something.” Illumi picked up his phone that was plugged into the speakers, ending the once noble music to search for something highly contrasting. Chrollo let his jacket drop to the floor as he turned to face Kikyo, the soft fabric crumpling against the polished wood.

“How many women are going to be there?” He asked, rolling his shoulders to loosen the knots that built inside.

“Oh, about 30?” Kikyo was fanning herself already, pulling Silva into the seat nearest her.

“Mind if I bring a friend to dance with me? That way we can give everyone the attention they need,” The black haired man practically bled from the look Illumi shot him, painfully being reprimanded from afar.

“Oh, of course! Money isn’t an issue, as long as he’s like you,” Kikyo motioned up and down with her fan, taking in the entirety of Chrollo’s body in her approval.

“Mother, who he has in mind may just be a bit too eager. He would frighten your friends,” Illumi was floundering beneath the composer of his mask, Chrollo could tell, and it took every well-honed muscle to keep from letting the sadistic elation overwhelm his own face.

“Nonsense, Illumi,” The mother disregarded his statement with a well-timed flick of her fan, “My friends would adore the attention.”

With the loss burdening him, Illumi grew silent. He pressed play on a slow, sensual song, very familiar to Chrollo’s ears. Now the center of attention, he pulled at the hem of his shirt, overwhelmed with the opportunity laying squirming, like an undercooked slice of meat, in front of him.

“Do you mind?”

Kikyo’s acceptance was all too eager, shielding her face once again when Chrollo’s shirt was off and joining the pile on the floor. He knew better than to take his eyes off of the woman, but he was absolutely searing from the gaze Silva was sending him.

Silva was observing the entirety of his built body, pale skin packed into perfectly toned muscles across his midsection, and Chrollo could feel it. The room had spiked in temperature, and Kikyo was fanning hurriedly to match the pace. The ferocity of the feeling of Silva’s eyes on his body spurred Chrollo into motion, slowly lifting his arms above his head.

Kikyo gasped, shaved, he was shaved! A statue, carved of blemish free stone, completely hairless and utterly smooth. He was truly a dream, what women saw in the midst of fevered sleep, visiting them from inside their deepest fantasies. Even men desired his cold skin, pulled taunt over his sharp jaw; his thick thighs, exquisitely shaped down to his calves.

Chrollo knew this all too well, knew where to turn to make the muscles in his biceps pulse, causing the onlookers to flush. He began to move, exaggeratedly full of masculinity, since he was dancing for a woman looking for a young, built man. The experienced man had each person mapped from the beginning. So much so, he was sure, if he had been dancing for him, he could make even Illumi blush.

Rolling, then pushing his hips forward, he moved toward the seated spectators, never missing when Silva would swallow as his thighs shook from his solid steps. Taking one of Kikyo’s hands in his own, he placed the small palm against his midsection, running it over his accentuated muscles. Chrollo had no doubt Silva’s build was anything less than his, most likely a massive amount more intense, but he knew there was something electrocuting about touching somebody new’s body for the first time. He was not surprised when Kikyo gasped, tiny fingers trembling against his skin.

Chrollo moved to stand behind her, reaching an arm out to run his touch up her slim frame. When the pads of his fingertips reached the bare skin of her neck, Kikyo was visibly shaking, too stunned to continue fanning, merely keeping her sweltering face covered.

He tilted down to whisper something in her ear, something low enough that Silva would not hear, and grinned when Kikyo giggled in response. Chrollo wondered, excitedly, how far he could push this until it broke, raining down on them all with Silva’s rage.

Unfortunately, the man did not seem fazed, merely watching the exchange with disinterested eyes. Chrollo took advantage of his position to lock eyes with him, hands running across Kikyo’s shoulders, where Silva’s hand had once lay. Silva’s face was a perfect mask, a false perception of control, and it made Chrollo sweat, smile emerging on his face again.

He pulled his eyes away and rounded to stand before the woman, legs straddling her. The dancer placed his hands on the back of the chair, caging her in, allowing her to fully admire his face and body up close.

“Yes, I think you’ll do just fine,” Kikyo resumed fanning, placing a bold hand on Chrollo’s pec. “It’s next Saturday, but I’d just love to see you again. Are you free tomorrow?”

Chrollo grinned, never showing his teeth, playing with a lock of her hair. He did not miss the way Silva slid further from his body, well-rounded ass inches from the man’s gaze.

-

“Well, I’m impressed Chrollo. You actually got me into Illumi’s house,” Hisoka was smirking past the point of normality, thoroughly overjoyed at being inside the Zoldyck household. “He would never let me meet his family. Now I get to meet his mother under the most delightful circumstances.”

Chrollo merely smiled, adjusting the tie he had carefully adorned hours before. When they arrived at the mansion for the evening, they were ushered into a dinner of extravagance, having unfortunately missed Kalluto’s dance routine. The entirety of the long table was filled with middle-aged women, dressed pompously in pearls and fur, sipping bubbling champagne. When they were seated, the men were instantly fawned over, introduced by Kikyo over cooing admiration.

All guests ate lightly, vaguely aware of the events bound to unfold later, wishing to keep their bodies in the best shape possible. Chrollo ate least of all, most attentive to his later plans, conversing through sips of alcohol. Kikyo told stories of the past days her and Chrollo had spent together, looking opulent in her sumptuous dress, large hem swallowing the chair she sat in. Hisoka preformed multiple magic tricks for the assembled ladies, often daring to brush his fingers past their ears, inciting rouging and causing quarters to appear.

“I’ve enjoyed visiting Kikyo,” Chrollo commented, when asked by another woman to come vacation at her home. This caused the aforementioned woman to laugh from the head of the table, covering her face with a new, gold woven fan.

It was true, that Chrollo enjoyed being her guest. He would come by just after breakfast ended, and they would spend their day together, most often times in her room, which took up a majority of the third floor of the house. They would do any number of things, sometimes Chrollo would dance for her as she sipped a glass of wine, or he would brush her hair, play board games, help her decide on her clothing, give her massages as she stretched out on the fur rug.

Chrollo enjoyed it the most when he was able to gain information about Silva from passing conversations. Not once had he seen the other man since his first encounter with the couple, the Zoldyck home much too extensive to ever pass by him on accident. Occasionally, Kikyo would mention his work for the day, but never enough to gauge any real information off of. It took Chrollo inquiring about personal things to reveal what he desired, such as if Silva was the jealous type, if he ever took the family on vacation, when the last time they went out to dinner romantically was. Kikyo was an easily excitable and erratic person, but Chrollo could weed through what was exaggeration and what was truth fairly easily, honing his phenomenal interpersonal skills.

Silva was a stern, possessive man, with no limit on what he would do for his wife. Kikyo made a fair amount of money on her lonesome, but a majority of her lavish belongings came from her husband, who showered her in abundance. He had a taste for hoarding, like a dragon, and the house was embellished with beautiful artifacts and antiques, an animals severed head above every fireplace.

This wealth of knew information came in handy when Chrollo considered their fated meeting, already colluding how he would approach Silva, while he sat braiding his wife’s hair.

There really was no stopping it, however. Since Chrollo had caught a glimpse of Kalluto’s father on their cellphone, spruced up for a family picture, towering over his children, his sights had been set on the married man. A few designed plans behind the scenes, and a few instances of fool’s gambling, lead him to stand at the Zoldyck dinner table now.

“Well, we’ll freshen up while you go check out the room, boys. Let the servants show you where it is,” Kikyo motioned, dinner table cleared and guests anxiously awaiting the remainder of the night.

Hisoka blew an opportune kiss toward the group before following Chrollo and the butler down a dim hallway lit by low, flickering lights. Utterly set up for a sensuous night, the hallway led to a plush room, all dark wood and luscious leather. There were enough seats for the women present, and round tables with baskets of ice and champagne for each group.

“We can do wonderful work here,” Hisoka remarked, running a lithe finger up the gorged seam of a chair. He turned to Chrollo, who was admiring a painting upon the wall. “What do you say we break in one of these chairs?”

The shorter man turned to catch Hisoka grinning predatorily at him, eyes trained to his thighs, visible through his clinging pants. Chrollo let out a chuckle, walking over to the other, but keeping a telling distance between them.

“Sorry, I have my eyes on someone tonight,” Chrollo removed his suit jacket, draping it over the chair nearest the center of the room, certain Kikyo would be sitting there.

“Oh? Did you really like that woman that much? How disappointing…” Hisoka tsk-ed, letting his own hand tangle in his gelled hair. Chrollo saw no point in revealing his plan to the other, placing his hands in his pockets as the door to the room opened, revealing their patrons for the night.

Kikyo had already payed him a hefty sum, for both his presence in the previous days and for his dancing tonight, but the women were all fisting large wads of one dollar bills as they entered, most likely relishing in the atmosphere of lasciviousness. In the perfect pose, Hisoka welcomed them, hair brushed back with his large hand. Chrollo held Kikyo’s chair out for her, watching as she dipped in a slight curtsey at his genteel act.

Imagining where these refined women would be in a few hours made Chrollo grin.

-

30 minutes into their dancing, Chrollo had his shirt off, and Hisoka was stripped to his tight underwear. There were quite a few bills in their waste bands, and an even greater amount scattered across the floor. The sound system was booming a predetermined playlist the men had made, surging movement through their bodies with each rumble of the bass.

Chrollo was favored for his looks, Hisoka favored for his forwardness. Two women traced their hands down Hisoka’s chest, while another allowed Chrollo to press kisses along her neck, up to her receding hair line. It was creeping to extremely intimate territory, but it was a private session, and Kikyo had certainly paid for them to go all out.

Chrollo kept that in mind as he slid to straddle said woman, running both hands down her alcohol rosy face. Kikyo’s glass tipped and splashed champagne across the floor as he reached down to lift her up, dragging her upward against his sweat laden chest. As the women howled in delight, showering empty bills across the pair, Chrollo seemed to be the only one to notice the door to the room had opened.

The shirtless man laid Kikyo down across one of the round tables, heavily aware of the new set of eyes observing him. Pinning her down, arms on either side of her head, he bent down to rest his forehead on the table, lips near her ear. All Chrollo could hear was the woman’s giggling, and he began to grind up against her, exaggerating his body movements so the women watching could view his body as he rolled against her.

Kikyo was laughing out of disbelief as the handsome man kept his thigh pressed between her legs, wholly trapped under the relentless undulations of his body. Chrollo had lifted his head and was now making dead eye contact with Silva, who stood in the doorway, nothing displayed on his angular face. Seeing Chrollo occupied by something made Kikyo glance over, a look of drunken surprise across her face at seeing her husband watching the sexually charged exchange.

“Dear!” Chrollo relented, leaning back so she could sit up and go to her husband. Kikyo did not seem ashamed in the slightest, beaming as she stared up at the man. Chrollo scrutinized the conversation, occasionally receiving glances from Silva, to which he would merely smile.

“Do you love her?” A woman, most likely a few years older than Kikyo, asked, grabbing onto Chrollo’s wrist. The shirtless man erupted into laughter, turning to her, pushing some stray hairs behind her small ears.

“Of course not, I don’t belong to anyone,” He knelt down to let her feed him some champagne, glass bouncing off of his teeth to send sticky liquid cascading over his chin. The women cheered as he brought his face against her thigh, inhaling deeply as he grazed his nose over the entirety of her stout body. By the time he reached the crown of her hair, Silva had left, Kikyo on her way back to the entertainment.

Chrollo abandoned the woman, landing himself at Kikyo’s side, holding one of her clammy hands to keep her steady. The older woman giggled, leaning to pick her glass up from off the floor, heels sticking to the viscous coat over the wood. When she brought her head back up, Chrollo brought his lips to her ear, whispering in a heated tone.

“Would you mind if I excuse myself for a minute?” Kikyo nodded, screen meeting Chrollo’s eyes in a drunken flush.

Once seated, she let go of his hand. Chrollo made for the cracked door in a shadowy rush, grateful at Hisoka attracting all the attention, letting a woman autograph the upper part of his ass.

Once in the hallway, Chrollo began his hunt. The air took on a different quality as he saw the distant form of Silva’s back vanishing into a faraway haze. The barren air mixed with the sheen of wetness across his body from sweat caused the light hairs on his chest to rise, a deep broil beginning in him.

Quickening his pace, Chrollo closed the gap between him and the other man, squaring his shoulders as he slid up next to him.

“Can I help you?” Silva peered out of the side of his eyes, taking Chrollo off guard by speaking first. The younger began to smile, picking up on the quickening of Silva’s pace.

“Can we stop and talk? I’m a bit tired out,” Chrollo lied, using the past interruption to hopefully stir the basin of his emotions. Silva considered the dangerousness of the situation before pausing, attempting to ignore the satisfied smirk that crossed Chrollo’s face.

Body between the wall and Silva’s own massive form, the black haired man could feel his own excitement stirring, shaking inside as Silva failed to keep his eyes from wandering down his naked form. Turned to face him, Chrollo could finally appreciate how large the other was, completely dwarfing his own built frame.

“Don’t you get jealous, with your wife doing that?” Chrollo asked, leaning back against the wall, hands clasped behind his back. “Should I be worried? Are you going to punch me?”

“Not at all. We have an agreement,” Silva conceded, scolding himself for offering more information than necessary. The dancer quirked an eyebrow, bringing his arms to a cross in front of him.

“She gets to do that and you get to do what, have sex with other women?” Chrollo had to tilt his head to match eyes with the man, and what he saw did not disappoint him.

“Of course not,” Disgusted, Silva turned to walk again, but Chrollo caught his arm. The tendons underneath flexed, sinewy against Chrollo’s tight fingers, spurring him on.

A built man like Silva could have easily ripped his arm from the grip, severely injuring Chrollo in the process. But he let his skin be pet, Chrollo beginning to slide his unused fingertips along the rough skin. Pulling the arm toward himself, he turned Silva toward him, placing his large palm against his heartbeat, continually running his fingers along the underside of his arm.

“Oh? So do you sleep with boys, then?” Chrollo allowed his chest to twitch underneath Silva’s broad fingers. Part of his grip tightened, curling his fingers into Chrollo’s shoulder, hard enough to bruise.

“No, I don’t sleep with anyone. I just let Kikyo enjoy herself, that’s all,” Silva attempted to remove his arm, but paused when he received resistance, Chrollo tightening his savage grip. He forced Silva to move his hand downward, trailing it across his taut skin, unable to control his hips as they jolted forward when the touch reached his abdomen.

“Have you ever gotten a dance before? I bet you haven’t,” Itching for a lower touch, yet enticed at the buzzing atmosphere, Chrollo reluctantly brought the rough palm upward, settling it on his fragile neck. “I’ve danced for men before. I like it more, actually.”

Chrollo’s thrumming pulse sat beneath Silva’s touch, the younger man’s fingers curling into his own. The edges of Chrollo’s hair were pieced with sweat, tickling as he tilted his neck, completely submitting to Silva’s touch, awaiting his answer.

As if there would be a thought process, at this point. Silva was heavily aroused by this man, both physically and mentally, and his confusingly deep interest in him, apparent even at their first meeting. Silva brought his thumb up harshly, jarring the pale man’s neck back, ears sensitive to the soft, throaty noise he made. Bringing his thumb to rest on his plump lips, Silva eyed Chrollo, who was observing through lidded eyes.

“I won’t pay you,” Silva felt the neck beneath his grip vibrate in laughter, a tongue sliding out to slip across his thumb.

“That’s okay Daddy, I’ll dance for you for free,” Chrollo purred the affectionate name, seeming to hit home with the older man, who released him from his crushing grip.

“There’s a room this way,” Silva instructed, turning to walk, not checking if Chrollo chose to follow him. Holding his jaw where the hand once was, Chrollo squeezed, a soft pain resounding.

It would bruise, surely, by the end of tonight he would have hand marks covering his body, and that thought made his skin bristle in excitement. This man was strong, rich, powerful, his hands would leave a sting that echoed for days.

Shutting the door behind him, Chrollo followed Silva into the room, a simple study containing bookshelves, a desk, and a leather chair. Silva was already seated, offering no assistance in what Chrollo was to do next.

Unfazed, Chrollo checked his surroundings, studying for any props that could be of use. Taking into consideration Silva’s personality, Chrollo was certain it would not matter in the end, sure in his ability to seduce the elder.

“Did you like when I called you that?” The black haired man questioned, looking over his shoulder at the impassive viewer. Bringing his arms around to hug his body, Chrollo began to sway his hips, completely different in his movements than before.

Moving in a sultry fashion, like a seductress set free, Chrollo traced his fingertips along his skin, acutely aware of Silva’s eyes on him. Finding his own touch thrilling, he ran his hands through his hair, turning to face the other full on. Pulse throbbing, Chrollo caught his eyes, approaching the seated man with a sensual strut.

Once reaching him, Chrollo stood on either side of Silva’s legs, pushing his own hands down his body, feeling himself in his impeccable entirety, slippery against the sweaty coating across his bare skin. Silva watched as the dancer’s hands landed on the slight bulge in his jeans, not pausing before sliding between his thighs.

Chrollo shot his hands up and instantly tilted Silva’s head back, long hair spilling over the back of the seat. Enjoying the position he found himself in, he lowered himself onto Silva’s lap, maintaining eye contact through the entirety of his deliciously slow movements.

“You’re allowed to touch me, you know,” Despite Chrollo’s suggestion, the man’s hands remained on the arms of the chair, distant and unflappable.

A bit miffed, Chrollo pressed himself against Silva, marveling at the strength beneath his clothes. Lacing his arms together behind Silva’s neck, Chrollo began to rock his hips at a lackadaisical, teasing pace. A small grunt escaped from between the man’s lips, encouraging Chrollo in his movements.

“Or do you just like watching? I never took you for that kind of man,” Chrollo leaned into Silva’s neck, lips shelling his ear. “I’ve danced for guys like you hundreds of times. I know who you are, you don’t have to hold back.”

A startling bang echoed throughout the entire Zoldyck Mansion as Silva slammed a fist against the wood desk, causing Chrollo to jump and pause his ministrations. He was on his back in an instant, a thick hand forcing him down by his neck, the desks wood frozen against his feverish skin.

“You know nothing about me,” Silva growled, tightening his grip harder when Chrollo attempted to smile in glee. The smaller man tilted his head back, moaning breathlessly at the asphyxiation, tangling his legs together behind Silva’s wide back. Someone must have heard, someone would be coming to walk in on them at any minute, yet Silva continued his abuse, making Chrollo jerk in arousal. Releasing his throat, Silva bent down to ravage Chrollo’s mouth, teeth exposed and gnashing.

Chrollo was bucking his hips already, tongue forcing its way into Silva’s mouth. The older man used one hand to reach between them, beginning to unbuckle Chrollo’s slacks. Pushing his pants and underwear down to his thighs, Silva gave Chrollo no rest time, encircling his half-hard dick with one massive hand.

Pausing from the violent kissing to let his head hit the wood as he dropped it back, Chrollo moaned viciously, fingers clawing at large forearms. Chrollo’s dick was beginning to pulse at the rough treatment, begging for movement as it sat idle in Silva’s grasp. Starting to thrust his hips upward, the man humped himself into Silva’s hand, groaning when his hips were forced down with a rough hand.

Silva released the other’s package, reaching down to fumble in a drawer below. He brought out a bottle of lube, and Chrollo cackled through his panting, brushing drool off of his face with the back of his hand.

“Are you sure… you don’t fuck boys? Or is that just for you?” Chrollo puffed, unable to catch his breath as Silva smacked him clear across his face. The pain was uncalled for and extraordinary, sending Chrollo into a whirlwind of moaning, eyes barely open in ecstasy. Silva roughly ripped Chrollo’s pants from his body, letting the useless cloth drop to the floor between them.

He felt his ass being spread, a cold liquid spilling across his lower body as Silva continued, wordlessly. This man was a treat, beyond what Chrollo had expected, roughly lifting his hips to allow a thick finger to trace his entrance.

“H-Hah… Put it in already…” Chrollo wiggled his hips, entranced at the feeling of Silva’s fingers playing with him. As one firm finger began to enter him, Chrollo dropped his head again, crying out in ecstasy, insides twitching in both rejection and wanton acceptance.

“You feel like you need another already, is that right?” Silva asked huskily, from far away, and Chrollo nodded eagerly, holding his legs back to his chest.

“A-Another one, Daddy, come on…” Silva obeyed, ramming another finger mercilessly inside, a wringing tightness around his knuckles. The gasping man pushed back down on the firmness inside of him, attempting to suck it further in.

“Don’t move,” Silva ordered, leaning over to latch his lips against Chrollo’s vacant neck, beginning to mark it mercilessly. Whiningly, Chrollo complied, relishing in the lapping warmth against his skin, awaiting Silva’s next move.

Chrollo was notoriously a power bottom, but something was to be said for being utterly submissive. Being reliant on another for your pleasure, it was enticing, arousing in a whole other light.

Especially when no boundaries had been set, no prior knowledge about what was to be tolerated and what was not, for either of them. Silva could destroy him, break his body, and Chrollo would have no way to stop it, no way to end his onslaught of pain.

And to Chrollo’s twisted mind, that sounded positively alluring. At least in theory.

Silva began to move his fingers, curling upward sharply as he shoved his wrist against Chrollo’s ass. Crying out, the man drug his nails across Silva’s back, disgruntled to find he had not removed his shirt.

It was frustrating to have no control, yet stimulating to the bleary man’s senses. Reaching a hand down his own body, he began to pump himself, curling his head to occupy Silva’s lips.

At a pleasing pace Silva began to finger the man, scissoring and scraping against his prostate with his sizable fingers. Chrollo was moaning into their mingled lips, latching a bite onto Silva’s lower lip when given an opportunity.

Grunting in response, Silva pointedly curled his fingers, harshly ramming Chrollo’s prostate.

“A-Ah! Yeah, right th-ah, there again…” Chrollo was rolling his hips, riding Silva’s fingers and jerking himself off at the same time, eyes beginning to blur.

“You want to cum already?” Silva inquired, removing his fingers fully before shoving them in again, restraining his own arousal as Chrollo spiraled into another moaning fit.

“I- Don’t stop, I’m coming, d-don’t-“ Another fierce jab of fingers and a skim from his nails was all it took for Chrollo to edge himself over, leaking cum down his hands and across his bare stomach.

Silva removed his fingers when the twitching around them slowed, holding them in front of Chrollo’s face to be cleaned. Bringing his own hand up, Chrollo licked both his and Silva’s fingers spotless, cum and lube dripping down his chin, a sight far too lewd for someone as beautiful as Chrollo.

Post-orgasm flush across his chest, Chrollo brought his eyes to meet Silva’s, dark lashes obscuring his gaze. Enamored by the look he was receiving, and the feeling of Chrollo’s tongue playing with him, Silva removed his fingers quickly, beginning to unbutton his pants.

“You’re going to drive me crazy…” Chrollo shivered as Silva released himself from his pants, not deaf to the younger man’s warning, aware of what he meant. Silva quickly flipped the dancer over as if he weigh nothing, stirred on by the pained noise he made when his face connected with the wood.

Silva pressed his hardening length against Chrollo’s ass, grabbing his hips as he leant into the plush. Chrollo arched himself, spine curving and allowing for even more friction against the man’s dick, lube dripping between his thighs.

“Move, until you can come again,” Silva commanded, slapping Chrollo’s ass, hard, watching the reddened skin jiggle. Chrollo gasped, arching up for more, propping himself up on his elbows to steady his movements.

The left-over lube slicked Silva’s dick as Chrollo began to grind against it, twisting his neck so he could watch the silver haired man as he swung and rolled his hips. Silva caught his gaze and spanked him again, harsher this time, bordering on the brink of unbearable. Chrollo cried out, tears beading in his voluptuous lashes as his sore skin was man handled, fistfuls of flesh kneaded in Silva’s palm.

“You’re so… attendant to my needs, Silva,” Chrollo whispered, in biting truth, sucking in his lip as another slap landed against his ass. The larger man began to remove his shirt, leaving it hanging as his broad chest was revealed.

Silva reached forward to spread Chrollo’s ass cheeks, fingertips gouging into the tortured flesh he grabbed possessively, viewing the welcoming entrance.

“It’s ok, you can put it in,” Chrollo urged his hips backward, the tip of Silva brushing past his opening. Slipping a bit more lube onto his dick, Silva prepared to enter the young man, grounding himself with a deathly grip on Chrollo’s hips.

Silva, in girth, was by far the largest man Chrollo had been with. He burnt at the aching stretch that reverberated as he was split apart, craning his neck to call out like a feral animal. Silva was groaning, slipping the entirety of himself into Chrollo gradually, reaching out to wrap his hand around the vulnerable, strained neck.

Once fully inserted, Silva folded over on top of Chrollo, resting his weight on his own elbow. Unintentionally pushing himself further in with his movements, Silva twitched when Chrollo cried out again, clamping down on the hardness inside of him.

There were several minutes of vicious panting, adjusting to the jolting connection the two now shared. Chrollo craned his head, making the first move, kissing the side of Silva’s terse face warmly. The man turned his hung head to meet Chrollo’s soppy lips, pulling out leisurely throughout the inebriating kiss.

Once he slammed himself back inside, Chrollo let out a moaning wail against Silva’s mouth, body jarring back to invite more of him in. The broad man took the encouragement, beginning an unhurried, air-stiffening rhythm.

Slowly, slowly, Silva began to fuck Chrollo, muddling the man’s mind, sending him panting into the careless kisses. Silva was a cautious lover, and Chrollo had never felt something so thick, so overwhelming inside of his body. He had done it all for this, the groans being let out against his skin, the aching pleasure washing over his mind.

The remainder of the night, his cautious steps up until now, all was forgotten as Silva bit against the black haired man’s skin, sucking up his sensitive neck.

“A-Ah… Th-There… Keep fucking me Daddy, Sho-ah! Shove it in me,” Chrollo panted painfully as Silva slammed their hips together, growling against his spit covered neck. Chrollo grabbed the dangling ends of Silva’s hair, violently guiding him into a kiss, forcing his mouth open upon first contact, pushing hot air into his body with heavy breaths.

Silva muttered something wordlessly about coming inside of Chrollo, to which Chrollo energetically nodded, lifting his ass in offering. The pace was quickening, Silva chewing on the buxom lower lip as the black haired man let out pained whimpers, dick fully erect and stinging to be touched.

To keep their hips even further connected, and to offer the throbbing relief Chrollo was in need of, Silva released his bruising neck to reach down and graze the man’s dick. Chrollo shook, legs giving out as he relied completely upon the desk against his upper body for support.

Filthily jacking Chrollo off as he pounded him, the older man began to falter as the tightness around him trembled in excitement. Standing back up and using his free hand to force Chrollo’s hips backward, Silva began to grunt between his teeth. The thickness of Chrollo’s ass was hypnotizing to watch as it bounced with each thrust, making the man hasten his movements.

“I-If you keep going- H-Hah, I’m going to cum-“ Chrollo arched upward, head lolling, innumerable hickies glistening in the subdued light. His body began to spasm, inhuman noises escaping his bruised lips. “I’m coming I-“

Wetness poured over Silva’s hand as the man came depravedly, wailing with his head lifted high in the air. A few more thrusts into the fluttering constriction and Silva was following him, falling forward as he emptied himself into the shivering man.

“Your cum- let it out inside,” Chrollo whispered with lidded eyes, drool clinging to his lips. Silva let out a bestial noise as he ground his hips forward, continuing to drain himself as he muffled his mouth against Chrollo’s white shoulder.

The air pressure dropped, the fan on the ceiling sending a surge of frosty air onto the two men’s sweating bodies, chilling them instantaneously. Chrollo spread his fingers, attempting to grasp a notch in the perfectly filed wood, searching for a lifeline to tether his trembling body.

That had been… much better than he expected.

Silva regained his composure, hauling himself to a stand wordlessly. Chrollo remained splayed as the other tucked himself back into his pants, eyeing the ravaged man cautiously. Cum had already begun to surge out of him, dripping lukewarm down his smooth thighs.

There was light brush against his shoulder, and Chrollo attempted to roll over, graciously wallowing as he found his strength sapped. With ease and pity, Silva bundled Chrollo into his arms, careful to not place his hands where any significant marks lay. Despite his regard, Chrollo still ached, fluttering his eyelids as Silva brought him to the brisk leather chair.

At some point, Silva’s shirt had altogether left his body, and Chrollo relished at the sight of his brawny frame. Now able to appreciate it, no longer on his stomach, the young man traced his fingers through the hair splayed across his chest, wisps of silver twining beneath his palm.

Silva paused, watching as his own body was admired, in a ticklish way, before sitting down, keeping Chrollo in his lap. The two were silent as Chrollo steadied himself, cum staining the thighs of Silva’s pants as it trickled from his body.

“What if your wife comes to find me?” Chrollo smiled slightly, voice raw, reflecting the rest of him.

“Then I tell her I’m keeping up my end of the agreement,” Silva replied nonchalantly, resting his arm across Chrollo’s legs as they dangled over the arm of the chair, tracing circles down to his ankles.

Chrollo snaked his arms around Silva’s neck, intertwining his calming hands in his hair, massaging the base of his scalp with his keened nails. The dancer placed a lazy kiss against the older man’s collarbone, peering up through matted eyelashes at Silva’s lion-like eyes.

Silva used a soft hold to tilt Chrollo’s head upward, so he could chastely kiss his swollen lips, just enough pressure for them to ache pleasurably. When the kiss was finished, Chrollo flicked his tongue out to trace his battered skin faintly, choosing to rest his head against Silva’s languidly heaving chest. He let his hands idly play with the ends of the man’s well-groomed hair, plated tresses weaving between his hold.

Silva let himself be toyed with, enjoying to watch Chrollo in such a defenseless and calm state. Bringing a hand to the young man’s muscled thighs, Silva enveloped a bruise perfectly outlining his hand, wary to not cause the other any pain.

“You can dance for me from now on, if you like,” Silva still held his commanding quality, but was nowhere near as overbearing as before, causing Chrollo to smile. He was kind, when necessary, after all.

“Do I get to stay here, then?” Chrollo ran a hand along Silva’s jaw, dusting his skin with the faintest of touches.

“If you’d like, you can stay in my wing,” Silva attempted to ignore the fulfilled expression that crossed Chrollo’s face, knowing he was falling into the other’s game, unable to rip himself free. He was mercilessly a pawn, and he was aware of that, running his hands across Chrollo’s bare thigh.

However, it was apparent by the accentuation of his normally wide eyes that Chrollo was now in it for something aside from money, pitilessly falling victim of his own trap.

“You’ll never have to worry for anything,” Silva assured, feeling Chrollo meld himself closer in acceptance, breath ghosting across his neck.

“Then of course, I’ll stay.”


End file.
